The walking stick

Today I “escorted” my octogenarian mum out to her apartment in Tenerife, which she has not visited since my late dad became ill a couple of years ago.

The journey was going reasonably till an airport security guard wanted to take her walking stick and x-ray it. She could not understand why it was a possible risk and then took umbrage that he considered her a possible terrorist. I smoothed matters out and had the stick x-rayed but should of left it at that rather than point out to mum that dressed in a fur coat (she was worried about catching a chill on her return to Scotland for xmas) and telling the security people you were going on holiday to the sunshine probably raised his suspicions. She was not amused.